


Are we off the floor yet?

by Senora_Luna



Series: 30 Day OTP Smut One Shots [6]
Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Engaged Couple, F/M, Floor Sex, Grinding, Porn, Pre-Canon, Religious Guilt, Sex, Sexism, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 00:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16186709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senora_Luna/pseuds/Senora_Luna
Summary: It was easier being young and in love far from home and away from expectations.





	Are we off the floor yet?

 

                Stomp, stomp, stomp. Imelda stormed through the town, feeling everything around her blur. Anger had clouded her gaze, fury had suffocated her breath, and the hot weather of the Mexico summer was no where as stifling as the church sermon had been. It would have been easier had her fiancé been there-when the priest began his sermon about the duties of wives, due to the plethora upcoming weddings this season.

                “ _Let a woman learn quietly with all submissiveness. I do not permit a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man; rather, she is to remain quiet.”_ The Latin sermon echoed in her ears, and her fists clenched. Months on the road had given her so much freedom, so many forward women whom didn’t bother with the provincial requirements of small town life, so much time with her especially open mariachi fiancé. Now she was home. With the cold eyes of her Mamá gazing at her as she knelt at the church pew-as if she restate the words the priest preached, that her worth laid in her ability to submit, restrain, be silent. How foolish! When her Mamá herself was nothing like that! What hypocrisy! What humiliation! And where was Héctor!

                The walk across town had barely taken her any time due how quickly she stormed, no one dared approach her for a Sunday morning conversation. On the contrary her mind was preoccupied with her times of freedom on the road. The nervous stumbling with her fiancé, the intense nude kisses in streams that had meant to be chaste baths, and then finally breaking the final taboo and letting their passions give way when they wondered if their lives were on the line. How _dare_ anyone try to shame her for that.

                Bang, bang, _bang._ She’d barely considered where she was going until she was there-which was Héctor’s home he now had to himself. There was something burning in her chest-it had been burning since she was in the church and it was only forming into a recognizable feeling as she stood there, pacing impatiently for her fiancé to open the door. Barely thirty seconds had passed when she banged again, scaring off any passing pedestrians who would’ve looked her direction.

                The wooden door finally swung open with a creak, a tall, gangly, half dressed man looked at her through half-awake eyes. Héctor-clearly dragged from sleep by her banging. He had on an under shirt-and what looked like yesterday’s trousers with his belt haphazardly hooked on, poking out of the slits on his waistline. He hadn’t shaved yet-his entire lower jaw in shadow from black bristles, which mirrored the ransacked look for his thick black hair pointing in every direction from sleep. When he blinked a few times to get his bearings and rubbed his long eyelashes to remove sleep from his eyes Imelda suddenly understood her feelings. A lurch of desire twisted a push of pleasure from her stomach down to the core between her legs.

                “Buenos Dias-…Imelda? What time-…oh…mierda I missed church didn’t I? I swear I turned the clock-,” Before he could go on her arms were around him, an easy task to his lithe frame, the only struggle came from his towering height which she leapt up to compensate-he managing to catch her even in his exhaustion after stumbling back into his hallway. “Ah-Imelda-!?” Héctor managed nearly falling over before catching a wall with one hand-while the other gripped her closely. Awkwardly, like they were dancing he held her against him while kicking the door shut from prying eyes.

                “ _Kiss me_ ,” She practically growled pressing him to the wall, as they stumbled, he slid down falling with a fumble to the little knit carpet in his hall, as she landed atop him breathing heavily. Héctor looked up frantically and caught her face before she could devour him.

                “Imelda!” A startled gasp, wide eyes, now he was certainly awake looking at the hungry girl upon him like he was in a feverish haze. “What-what’s going on?”

“Por Favor, let me kiss you,” Imelda practically whined searching for his mouth while the man carefully found his senses, waking up fully, and holding her back by the shoulders.

“Normally I would love that but…something seems-um-you seem angry?” Those tender brown eyes had a touch of fear in them, and it was obvious from his face he was trying to calculate what he did wrong. Imelda bit in a little pout and finally sat back with an exhale. Despite all the feelings raging in her she didn’t want to take it out on him, they had already discussed that when their courtship began; her anger could be like wildfire if she wasn’t careful. “Lo siento, I know you wanted me there I…”

“It,” inhale, “it isn’t you…it was the sermon.” She relented feeling her face go red. “And my Mamá.”

“Did she take back her blessing?”

“No she just-…the whole sermon was wives and submission-Timothy 2:11.” Imelda muttered, feeling her fists curl once more. This was awful, even sitting on him like this she felt shame creeping in. So she slowly scooted off him, taking a seat against the wall then demurely straightening her skirts. Héctor sat up half-way, a flush coming to his own face from her affects on his body. It was clear he was trying to be secretive the way he folded up his legs, but after sharing motel rooms with him she knew his little quirks.

“You know I…I don’t want that from you.” He said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. Imelda chewed her lip, of course she knew that-he had assured her so many times on the road, when they began courting, and after they became engaged. Just one look at his face she knew that hadn’t changed-but still the fury lingered.

“I know…” Doubt and worry on his face and she felt a twinge of guilt. “I do know, I promise…but something has me so angry.”

“Your Mamá? I mean you know if my Mamá were alive she would be fuming we’re alone right now it’s just how older women can be.” He said with a calm shrug squeezing her shoulder. Imelda shook her head slowly, feeling the rage in her stomach twist miserably.  “Imelda…” A lower tone, compassionate patience she adored him for, even though she had yanked him out of bed. “What is it?”

“I think I’m more angry at God than anything,” came her voice in a near whisper. It was safe with him, yes he went to church, yes he did his best to be a good Catholic niñó-but he was also Héctor. The young man open to bending the rules for fun, and questioning the world around him in his poems.

“Why’s that?”

“We almost _died._ ” She muttered. “So many people _did_ die-and were hurt, and robbed, and raped, in this war and…” A furious scoff left her and she had to grit her teeth to avoid a curse. “But the sinful thing is me! I’m the awful shameful thing and not the war! Where’s the sermon about how men with their pistols shouldn’t rob young people-or, or the sermon about not terrorizing towns and shooting people in the streets I-” heat rose in her body, the corset she wore felt like it would pop off her breath was so heavy, “why is it so wrong I desire you physically!”

                Héctor too blushed, their eyes met as he slowly ran his hand from her shoulder to pry open one of her fisted hands. The warmth-the gentle gaze, it melted her core. How badly she wanted to kiss him-how badly she longed to be far away from Santa Cecilia in some unknown motel where she could lay bare in his arms and no one was the wiser or cared to interrupt them.

                “You know…your passion, your sense of justice is one of the things I love about you…” He muttered giving her a meek smile. “…I’m not ashamed…of anything we did…I hope you’re not.”

                “Of course not!” Instantly she sat forward squeezing back his hand tightly, it pained her that he would consider any of their affection wrong when it had been some of the most glorious moments of her life in the midst of so much chaos. “I wish we were married now! I wish I could do all those things with you-I wish…,” She leaned toward him, the heat those memories stirred made her shift beneath her skirts uncomfortably-and Dios did he look so appealing in his casual wear-it was so private, intimate, something the world didn’t know but she would as his future wife.

                “Well good…” Awkward tension hung in the air-he swallowed a moment and looked away scratching at his goatee like was trying to remember or ignore something. Imelda however scooted closer, glancing over his shoulder at what he sought to hide.

                “Did you have one of those mornings when you woke up aroused…”

                “Uh…well you jumping on me didn’t help.” He muttered giving her a mixture of exasperation and embarrassment. Everything about him was calling out to her. The black hair on his chest she could see poking out from his undershirt, his loosely put on trousers, the bulge he had tried his damnedest to conceal from her.

                “Por favor…por favor kiss me…” Imelda murmured leaning into his shoulder.

                “Imelda…we should…calm down first.” The words sounded like he was having his arm twisted to say them.

                “Héctor no one is here to see us…”

                “We said when we got home we were going to…be more…um… _proper_ …” Something about the word flared in her furiously; ‘ _quietly with all submissiveness’._ Imelda let out a vicious huff and threw up her hands in fury.

                “What if I don’t want to be proper! What if-what if I want to act like a complete-a complete puta!”

                “Imelda-don’t talk about yourself that way!” Héctor gasped, but her small hands were on his shoulders, the heat in her face intoxicating as she eyed him desperately.

                “I think of you Héctor, I think of kissing you until I can’t breathe, I think of how your body looked in the moonlight and tasted-I think of how you felt inside me and how incredible it was and if that makes me a puta then I’m a puta because I desire you _so much_ and I-I am **not** going to be ashamed, I-,” Before she could go on he gave in and closed the gap between them with a needy kiss. Imelda hummed gleefully, opening her mouth in hopes for his tongue. It took only a second to be obliged.

                The wonderful warmth of his bare arms came around her synched waist pulling her tight against his thin chest. A weak moan spilled into her mouth, as it was clear all her words and behaviors had stoked as much desire in him as was raging in her own body. There was such little patience in her as she wove her arms about his neck, the lacey cuffs of her Sunday dress tickling his exposed back

                “I’m aroused for you, there’s wetness.” The words spilled out almost automatically, she couldn’t even pause to censure herself or contemplate if she would cross a line that repelled him. It didn’t seem to be there at least because the way his eyes widened, and he bit his lip seemed to only show reciprocated desire.

                “Dios mios Imelda…” He murmured clearly at war with himself.

                “Am I too vulgar, too wanton?” She muttered dropping her head and pressing kisses on the sensitive place above his adam’s apple, ‘ _For Adam was formed first, then Eve, and Adam was not deceived but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor’_ the sermon echoed again in her mind. Would he someday too censure her? Was there a limit he expected now they were home and meant to fall in line of husband and wife?

                “N-no…I…mierda, I like it.” He mumbled reclining his head with a moan. “Dios, I love it.” Without warning her mouth was on him again, and this time as she inched closer he didn’t stop her as she crawled into his lap with a little moan.

                “You’re hard down there-I feel it on my leg.” She managed, a darker blush creeping up her face and down her breast.

                “Imelda…we-…we shouldn’t…” Again it was like he spoke at gun point. Everything in his face and eyes suggested the opposite of how badly he wanted nothing more than to indulge in her body.

                “And why not!” She half panted, reaching up to suddenly undo her dress collar, frantically popping free buttons until her corset was exposed. Héctor’s eyes grew with every button, then stared transfixed at the heavy cleavage above the compressing garment. “Because people will look down at us-because-because we aren’t wed yet-I-I don’t care…” Everything in her was screaming out. Lord he looked handsome rising from bed, it brought her back to the memory of waking up bare in his arms-feeling his scratchy faced kisses across her cheek. And why should they wait-why hold it off-why why why!

                “It’s…we’ll be married soon…I don’t want the town to talk about you, I don’t want you treated poorly because of me-….ah…” Another unstoppable moan when her lips fell onto his neck once more.

                “And when we’re married I have to be passive-domestic? Wait until you want this?” Came her breathy voice, her hands slid underneath his shirt palms pressing into his chest like it contained some relief.

                “N-no,” He managed, his body shivering when her fingers fumbled across his nipples. Imelda reclined her head higher, turning her lips into his ear.

                “Am I supposed to turn into a proper lady overnight? What if I can’t…what if I see you come home and all that comes out of my mouth is that I want…,” She licked her lips preparing the word, “to **_fuck_** you.” Perhaps he would push her away in repulsion-she waited feeling him tense beneath her, then his breath spilled out in a soft curse of his own.

                “I’d…be the luckiest man in all of Mexico.” And he captured her braided bun in his hands kissing her forcefully, his tongue curling into her mouth deeply-probing-getting as close to her as possible. Perhaps unconsciously, he bucked his hips up into her lap, and a happy moan spilled into his mouth. “Te amo mucho.” A little happy purr escaped her, and she ground against his hips in return, a harsher pant beginning. As their kiss sent them rocking against each other, she began to frantically yank her skirts to her wait-moving aside the bothersome petticoat and shift until her pantaloons were directly atop his trousers.

                “We can do this at least? Por Favor? It’s not actually consummation-it’s not a sin,” Came the plea as she situated atop his protruding erection and began a little grind.

                “Ay, Imelda…” Slowly, he reclined his head back to the tiled floor, his hands blindly seeking out her thighs and letting out a near whimper when he found them. It made more wetness run from her body the moment his long fingers began to press and mold into her supple flesh. The slit in her bloomers pressed aside and she felt her bare sex on the harsh warm texture of his trousers.

                “Mm, Héctor, I’m going to get your clothes wet.”

                “Por favor…” He groaned, his fingers digging into her thighs a little harder. A few little jutting thrusts made her squeal-the pressure bouncing up against her clitoris as she nipped down on a finger to contain a near cry.

                “I _refuse_ to believe this part of my body belongs to the devil…”

                “How could anything so lovely be sinful.” His eyes opened looking at her sweetly and again her heart burst. Without a word she undid the rest of her dress and shrugged out of her sleeves letting the lacey cream fabric pool at her waist.

                “Imel-,” He began, a croak of a voice, a warning, but in the next second she snapped open her corset setting it to the side, “da…” For a moment he stared slack jaw, the pitiful shift she wore transparent with sweat as he looked up at her peaked rosy brown nipples. Everything in her longed to be touched, she wanted to force his hands to her chest but instead she watched him restrain for the stupid concept of their ‘reputations’.

                “I want to fuck you.” She managed, and watched the dark hunger cloud his eyes for a brief second before he shook his head grinding against her roughly to stave off some of the tension her words created.

                “We-we can’t…”

                “Si, we can, no one will know,” The pressure between her legs was making her voice higher, free of the corset she wove her waist side to side, front and back, moaning at the angles it pressed him into her.

                “Fuck-ah-…we’re not-not supposed to until the wedding-…” The deeper husk of his voice made her nearly feral, she wanted to rip off his clothing and show him just what he was missing. Instead her fingers curled into his chest hair as she pressed her weight as deeply as possible into his straining flesh.

                “We already did-didn’t you enjoy it?”

                “Don’t-…play…that…game-you know-…I-fuck-did.” His resolve was weakening, she could hear it as his voice grew more breathless. “I don’t know where the prophylactic is…”  

                “Por favor I want you in me, I want to feel you…I want to feel-…I want to feel your cock pulse in me Héctor.” Again he hissed out another moan, seizing her hips a moment to stop her motions. The look on his face was utterly torn, she wondered how desperate and sluttish her own must be. Would it be over after this? Was she going to disgust him? Would the devil come for her tonight and rip her down to hell? None of it seemed to matter right now.

                “Imelda…” He grit his teeth, and sat up suddenly burying his face in her bare shoulder. Softly his lips were trailing her skin, like a starving man taking whatever scraps he could find from generous benefactors.  

                “Por favor…just for a minute…I just want you inside for a minute…” The hot breath on her shoulder hitched, a little gasp a decision, and she felt him release her thighs. Worry struck her-had she gone too far? Was he ready to push her off and scold her for the lack of virtue-for what she had become in their time away from their moral town? A soft click made her sex pulse as she heard the rustling of his belt-the snapping buttons of his trousers-then warmth…hard, hot, flesh weighty against her thigh as an excited little gasp left her.

                “Just…just a minute…” He relented. “Lift up your hips…” Every word a shuddering whisper as if they would be caught despite the house being empty. Obligingly she reclined-a thrill filling her when she felt him press his cock against her wet slit, slipping it around clumsily until it landed at her entrance. She watched his expression fascinated, how he bit down on his lip as he entered her, his brows tensing, tensing, then relaxing with some sort of needed relief that must of mirrored her own from the delicious tight union. “Ay-Imelda,” so strained, so desperate, so satisfying to her ears as she hummed rocking into the full feeling.

                “Si…si I wanted this so desperately…” One of the rare times she wanted or needed anyone-it caught his attention as he half-smirked. Oh he would regret that. Pressing her palms to his chest she sent his back to the floor and began to grind her hips across him, his length tugged back and forth with the pull of her action. A harsher loud moan left him, and it sparkled pleasure in her immediately. She refused to be ashamed, she adored him, she was marrying him, she was having a life with him, if she wanted him in her where was the harm in that?

                Her calves squeezed around his hips for anchorage and she rolled forward much like they had when performing together in a dance. Oh he was so warm inside her, it was such a relief from all the tension of the day-the fury she felt, her head rolled back in momentary ecstasy as her hips ground into his depth-cooing blissful noises leaving her lips. If heaven was the sacrifice for this, for her Héctor, it was worth it.

                Then it was over. Before she could stop him he’d pulled out, gasping like he had run all the way to her house in the blazing heat.

                “Héctor!” she whined, scolded, ready to shake his shoulders in frustration.

                “I…don’t…want…whispers…I’m only marrying you…since you’re…with child…” He panted, and managed a crooked smirk, despite pain wracking his brows. “Obviously…I’m marrying you…since you’re…an insatiable nymphomaniac.” It was impossible to stay angry. A meager smile was on her, the feeling of his acceptance, as she watched him run his hands down his face trying vainly to calm down. Cunning, she adjusted her hips, straddling his cock once more, that it nestled between her slit-her liquid warmth coating it as she began to slide back like a train on its perfect track. Héctor nearly choked on his breath, eyes shooting up to her.

                “You’re not…in me-…no sin there…”

                “Imelda-…we-we shouldn’t-…we…” He was out of excuses, his eyes were drunk with pleasure and hips returning her smooth slides across him hungrily. “I don’t-I don’t want church to burden you-or-or you to worry about sin-,”

                “I’m not afraid!” And in an act of defiance, to silence him finally she pulled her crucifix off, sending it flying down the hall into the shadows. Héctor appeared stunned again, both pausing their motions as he looked at her in awe. “Héctor te amo-and-…that makes me want you close-and in me-and on me-and I don’t want to be proper lady who lays there and waits until you come home to collapse on me in a few sweaty grunts.” Her words were rambling out in a fury of her passion as she did sometimes-unable to catch herself until it went too far. “I want to do this! I want to fuck you-I want to-to make love-or…I want our desire to run freely! I’m not afraid for my soul-I already gave it to you when I let you do this-…” heat filled her face, she sounded as sappy as him after their first time, “isn’t that what your dumb poem was about!?” The confession was more embarrassing than exposing herself or the cursing. Stillness, looking to one another-then he sat up again kissing her hard, and grinding back into her hips with the kind of vigor she had wanted all morning.

                “Si-si I want that too,” he managed between gulps of air. They fell into a wet slippery pace, the sounds echoing in the hall of their slick, slippery, friction-and moans between hash kisses. She angled her hips that the head of his cock hit her clit with each grind, and soon shrieks were going into his mouth. The intensity forced her fingers to knot in his untidy hair, her head rolled back in the blinding trembling sensations. Then it built and built-to the point it was nearly scary, so out of body and in body at the same time. But the sound of his breaths, the weight of his hands in her hair, the warmth of his bony chest against her breast, were such comforts she let go with a scream-moving mechanically, seeking more, more, more, until her trembling legs felt like liquid on his lap.

                Sticky, warm, wet, she felt her shift clinging to her chest from sweat-and his nose pressing into her shoulder, hunched over from his own climax. Between her legs was an excess of wetness, she couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of her drawers as though she’d had an accident. Even more thrilling was the evidence of his pleasure, the white thick drops splattered on his shirt-her Sunday dress, and a few on her thigh. Something about the fact it was so improper-it would have the church in faints-semen on her Sunday dress-the laughter felt nearly giddy in her chest. Héctor reanimated to the sound, looking at her through half-lidded eyes which were now drunk on the pleasure and taboo they’d allowed.

                “What’s so funny…the fact I’m so easily seduced?” A smirking kiss against her skin. “You won, you won…”

                “No…I…” Biting her lip she watched his face as he noticed the mess between them. He let out a low groan gently pushing her back.

                “Ay...Lo siento your dress…uh…let me go get my handkerchief,-“ Before he could let out another word she’d scooped up a large sticky glob on her fingers from her thigh. Keeping his eyes she licked it off her fingers completely-relishing the sheer shock in his face. Bitter, salty, thick-but it strangely pleased her if he couldn’t release this warmth into her she could take it in another way.

                “There’s no sin about that is there?”

                “I…”  
                “Your jaw is hanging open.” Delicately she ran a hand under his chin, stroking the bristles of his unshaven face with a smile.

                “Is…it?” With a little nod she slid backwards from his lap reclining to her stomach on the floor. Surely her dress was going to need a vigorous washing before Mamá could see it-but it was all worth it the way his chest hitched as her tongue ran over the drops upon his shirt, sucking the fabric into her mouth, then releasing it with a wet stain.

                “…Holy fuck…” was all Héctor could manage and the irony of the words made her chuckle again. She sat up, fixing a few lose strands of hair back into her bun, and criss-crossing her legs awaiting his response. “I’m…so happy you woke me up.” He finally managed, reverently reaching over to help her fix her hair.

                “Tell me do you still want to marry me…knowing I’m this much a filthy nymphomaniac?”

                “…I want to move our wedding closer.” Before he could go on she flung him back to the floor with a laughing kiss-the burden of domesticity lifted from her shoulders, and the passion in her heart freed. “Ah, Padre Lúis, I would like to move up our wedding date because I _need_ to share a bed with my fiancé especially so she can lick-

                “Héctor!” She squeaked, covering his mouth with a blush. “Don’t you dare!” The propriety coming back to her, the sense of obligation even if she secretly thrilled at the prospect. Nipping at her fingers mischievously he went on.

                “You see my fiancé is a nymphomaniac and it’s a serious condition-trust me the physicians talk about it all the time in the cities-so for her health I _really_ should be in her bed multiple times a day-,”

                “Multiple times a day?” She rose a brow feeling her heart flutter.

                “If-…if you want that is…”

                “Maybe I do…” Came a warm smile as she reclined on his chest, satiated, adored, content. “…Gracias for loving me as I am and not what you want me to be…”

                “Ay, I doubt I could change you even if I wanted to…your convictions are so strong. And if…if I wanted something different I’d marry someone else.” A soft tsk left her as she twirled her fingers absently in his exposed chest hair. Neither in a rush to move from the crumpled rug.

                “…I’ve heard eating mango makes _that_ taste sweeter.”

                “…W-well…I do have to go the market…maybe you could…come with me and we’ll have some… He struggled to meet her eyes as she smirked, a tiny one on his own face at the implication. The blush on his face so precious as she lifted her head to kiss his scruffy cheek.

                “Perfecto.” What a wonderful husband he would be.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My writing and art are available for commission at my tumblr. If my work makes you smile, a ko-fi helps me so much! The support of ko-fis and commissions have enabled me to write all I have! Thank you. <3 
> 
> http://senoraluna.tumblr.com/


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